Times unknown
by Delilah07
Summary: Mickey and Neil are alike in many ways. but both of them always thought that there was one difference, but now they're not so sure. Please R&R Delilah xxxx thanks bbz
1. Chapter 1

'Its time to open your presents!'

Neil, Jake and Pippa were sitting around the living room table with a birthday with freshly blown out candles in front of them. Jake had just turned 5 and He an pippa were happy.

He turned off the television and took the home video out of the VCR. Those times were absolutely fantastic. But since then so much had happened in his life. The woman he loved had been crushed under the rubble of Sun hill station. This son had gone to live woth his mother in southern spain and his best friend has been killed, and neil had been almost charged with his murder. Neil remembered that time well. Mickey had come from MIT to investigate him, along with his then Fiance, Liz. Liz, as it happened had turned out to be a mole, leaking information to the press. Just like andrea had done, except andrea was an undercover journalist. Mickey's heart had been broken by the betrayal of the woman that he loved, but then again so had neil when andrea had died in 2005. Mickey had once admitted to neil that he thought he would never find love again after Kate. Mickey had once fallen in love with Kate Spears (no relation of britney or Jamie-lynn) before she had died in a fire at sun hill station, but not the one that Andrea had died in. It was one before that.She too, like andrea had worked at sun hill. She was a detective in CID and Neil had know her well, although he only worked with her for a short period of time, she was a friend of Pippa, his then wife. Neil and mickey were alike in many ways. They were both detectives, both had investigated each other for offences thought to be commited by the other, but had lost the women they loved, both had lost touch with their family. But one thing that Mickey didn't have was a son. Or did he?


	2. Letters

A few days before, some post had dropped through his letterbox. He wouldn't have noticed it, because it would have just joined the already mountainous pile of mail that lay behind his door. The only reason he noticed this morning was because he nearly broke his neck falling over it last night when he stumbled in drunk. Again. He has said to himself this morning when he woke up that he must go down and sort it out, before he really did fall over it and do some real damage. Just as he was about to leave, he scooped it up in his arms and walked into the sitting room, toast sit hanging from his mouth. He sat down and began o sort it out.

Amongst the bills and junk mail, and the advertisement for the 'Rock against Racism' concert some months previous, (He remembered how that went. Some nutter had fired a gun almost killing his boss and local MP (some would say he would have been better off dead, but you don't always get your own way...) and did kill the head of Canley's Muslim community. To be fair, that night didn't go very well. After all, the mad man who killed him nearly blew up the station which he loved with a fake bomb...), was a hand written letter. T

This in itself was very odd, because no-one ever sent hand-written mail anymore: everyone had mobiles and could text or send email, there was no cause to send mail anymore. What made it seem even more unusual is that it hadn't been sent to the wrong address. The address on the front of the envelope was his: Mr Mickey Webb,

18 Walcott Avenue,

Sun Hill,

South Canley.

He looked at the envelope for a moment. He didn't have anyone to send him mail. He had no family apart from his sister and niece in Ireland. His mum was dead, and his dad died when he and his sister Naimhe were just children. He had no other family: and the letter wasn't from Naimhe or Caoimhe, the postmark was from Newcastle.

He had had friends in Newcastle once upon a time. He had gone to university up there before he joined the force. Although Mickey was born and bred in Essex, he loved being in Newcastle. He had always said to himself, 'If things had turned out differently, then I would be in Newcastle with Olivia. We would be settled in our own home, have our own kids and be married. But when he was still in university, Olivia had gone missing. Just one day out of the blue, she had completely disappeared from the face of the earth. Mickey knew that Olivia's mum blames him for her daughter going missing. Until this day they never found a body. Mickey couldn't stay in that City, because there were so many memories of Olivia all around him. So he had travelled back down south and became a police officer. Olivia had disappeared almost ten years ago and he thought about her every single day. But he knew no matter how many times he prayed, it would never bring her back. Mickey knew me his heart of hearts that Olivia was dead, but he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. He had never talked about her to anyone, not even Jack.

Olivia's mum had blamed Mickey and his wild parties and mates for her daughter's disappearance, up until the very end. She died about a year after Olivia disappeared. Official reason was pancreatic cancer, but Mickey knew it was because of her broken heart. She was only in her mid Forties, and Olivia was only 21.

Mickey looked at his watch. He had already been late for work when he sat down to sort through his mail, but he had been so caught up in his thoughts, he lost track of time. He should have started work three quarters of an hour ago. 'Oh Shit!'

He jumped up, stuffed the letter in his back pocket, and completely forgot about it and ran out to the car, trying to think of a decent, but believable excuse of being late, hung-over and tired, again.


End file.
